Midnight Ride
by TheRowlingPierceWriter
Summary: Three mysterious visitors at Hogwarts...a late-night outing...Voldemort, anyone?
1. The Dark Mark

Harry Potter strolled in the darkness with the utmost of carefree intentions. The cool night air shifted about him, sometimes bringing his hair up on end and other times billowing his robes about him like a skirt. He ignored this, turning his face toward the heavens and the stars. In one hand he firmly gripped the reins of three horses. One, a feisty blood-bay mare, pranced impatiently. He smiled slightly; he would have to save that mount for himself. Another walked docile, head low, his dapple-gray coat shining in the moon's light. The gelding picked his hooves up wearily, as though he had been through some more crises in his life than others. The last was a young colt, black as the night air, and beautiful as the unicorns themselves. He held his head high, in an almost regal manner, and walked with such dignity it was nearly overpowering. He sported a star on his forehead, the only thing separating him and the November mystery. Harry studied horses carefully, embedding their image in his mind. The stallion, an Arab of high bloodline, whinnied slightly. The mare, a retired Thoroughbred racer, snapped her teeth at him in a warning gesture. She didn't hold with younger horses' foolishness. The gelding remained impassive, his quarter-horse body moving gently. Yes, he thought, they were entrancing. And he had a purpose for each of them. Harry led the three to a tall maple, tethering their reins-not to tightly nor too loosely-to a low branch. He than walked briskly off towards the castle, where his friends were waiting for him. The mare let out a shrill neigh of annoyance that clearly said _You're just going to_ leave_ us here?_ Harry nodded in response to the thoroughbred's obvious question. He would be back for them, soon. He heard the scraping of hoof on soil, and it took him a second to realize the young stallion was pawing the earth. They seemed restless-well, the gelding looked indifferent, but than, he always did-he would have to come again as soon as possible. Harry reached the Great Hall, where Ron and Hermione stood waiting for him, with speed. He insisted upon blindfolding them both, as the horses were a surprise. "Come off it, Harry," Ron grumbled, disliking the idea of not being able to see. Hermione shrugged and fitted the bandanna on in a chic style. Harry snorted, Hermione plainly didn't know the only things they would have to impress was their rides. Harry led them, quite like the horses, to the tree where the mare, gelding, and stallion stood. A chilly wind arose as he undid their blindfolds, rustling their cloaks. Hermione cried out in delight. She walked up to the mare, and blew softly in greeting, as was the way of horses. Now that she knew her smell, Hermione patted her head. To Harry's bewilderment, the blood-bay went as tame as the old quarter horse when she lay a hand on her. Ron, grinning, stood next to the dapple, which greeted him like an old friend. After exchanging nuzzles, Ron leapt gracefully onto his horse's back, to land neatly in the saddle. Harry raised his eyebrow at his best friend, but said nothing. Hermione had 'claimed' the old racer; as she pulled herself up into sitting position on her seat. Harry realized the only steed that left was-the Arab. What a beauty! Hermione spoke for the first time. "Where did you get them?" She asked, stroking her horse's neck. Harry smiled mischievously. "A little bird gave them to me." He gathered up his strength to mount the black stallion. His high back, characteristic of a newly mature horse, sloped the tiniest bit under the saddle. Harry noticed that the gray's back had a deep crevice in it, into which Ron fit snugly. "Harry, just tell us. Where did you get these-wonders?" Ron spoke with awe when he referred to the horses. Harry understood-he had been amazed when he first found them as well. "All right. I'll tell you. They're from the Forbidden Forest. I think they may be magical." Harry surveyed the six of them-three equine, three human, as they stationed themselves comfortably. Ron grinned. "What are we waiting for? Let's _go!_" He pressed firmly the old quarter horses sides' with his own thighs'. The horse moved smoothly into an impeccable trot, and Harry and Hermione were forced to nudge their horses on as well. "S-so, H-Harry, w-w-why do you t-think they're mag-gical?" Hermione bounced with her mare's gait, a brisk post trot, and had trouble speaking. "Well, and I know this sounds crazy, I think I saw them-_talking_ to one another." Harry admitted, effortlessly keeping stride with the Arab's slow canter. Ron shot him a quizzical look. "Oh, that's entirely possible." Hermione stated, matter-of-factly. "Enchanted horses, that is to say, Magiquines, are known for several abilities. Some can fly, wingless of course, others have the power of invisibility, and they all, we think, can communicate through the human language." Hermione must have studied her Magical Beasts and Where To Find Them the night before. "M-Magiquines?" Ron stuttered. They had all moved into an easy canter now, and talking was again easy. "Yes. Magic equines. Magiquines." Hermione told him. "And you think these may be some?" Ron pressed. Hermione nodded shortly. "As of yet, we don't have proof of absence of that, but than again, proof of absence isn't always absence of proof." Ron chewed this over. "Harry, why were you in the Forbidden Forest anyway?" He finally said. Harry shrugged. Ron couldn't get anything more out of him. "Another possibility," Hermione continued, "is that they are Animagi. However, three horse Animagi is highly unlikely, especially in the same place. Which leads us to my final guess-they are hippocamps." Hermione concluded. Ron shook his head dumbly. "These don't look like no hippos to me." "Not hippos, twit, hippocamps." Harry could have sworn he heard a snort of derisive laughter. However, none of his friends had moved. He dismissed it, and said: "Hermione, what's a hippocamp?" Hermione sighed. "'Hippo' is the ancient Latin word for 'horse'. Hippocamps are a folk lore, and I have never heard of any being seen in Europe. They supposedly died out hundreds of centuries ago-" Ron cut her off, "Just tell us what they are already!" Hermione shouted back "I was about to!" Harry acted as a pacifier, "Calm down. Hermione, please proceed." Hermione nodded stoutly. "As I was _saying_," she began again, "hippocamps are a half fish, half horse creature-" Ron interrupted again, "I don't see no fish heads either." Hermione balled her fists. "Ron," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, "you prat, let me finish! For the third _time_, hippocamps are half fish, half horse. They have the tail-not head-of a fish, and the upper body of an equine. They can, on occasion, transform into full fish or full horse. Their other half comes with them, supposedly, in some sort of fish of horse trait on their completely horse or fish body. They were fabled to have driven the chariot of Poseidon, Greek god of the sea, while in natural form. In horse state, they are said to be wild and raucous, quite like the merpeople. Not at all like these." Harry felt movement between his legs. He looked down to see his mount nodding emphatically at everything Hermione said. "Further more, Magiquines and hippocamps-along with Pegasus's and centaurs and hippogriffs-are ancient enemies. Each breed thinks itself to be best, and it maddens them that they all share at least part of horses' body. They were said to battle ruthlessly in early times for the crown of King Horse." Hermione patted the neck of the mare fondly. "I wish you could tell us what you are." She remarked sadly. "What about unicorns and pans?" Ron said, as they walked leisurely about over the Hogwarts grounds. "Unicorns stand for everything pure. Peace and love, kindness and gentleness. War is far below them. They have no need of a crown to tell them anything. As for pans, they are part goat, stupid, not horse." Hermione told him. Harry laughed. "So how do we find out what they really are?" Harry spoke up. "We could ask them." Ron volunteered, and Harry expected another sharp lecture from Hermione to Ron, but instead she nodded. "We could do that." She leaned over the mare's neck, near her ear, and whispered. The horse had no reaction, save for to swat a fly lazily away from her hock with her chestnut tail. Ron soothingly crooned to his horse, "Hey, big guy. You can trust me. We have to know what you are." The dapple blinked. Harry sighed and turned to his own steed. "Hi, fella," he murmured, caressing the horses' withers. "How are you? Please talk to us." The Arab turned its' head to the sound, though nothing more. His wide eyes stared blankly at Harry's inherited green ones. Harry shook his head and did a palms-up at his friends. "I guess they can't talk." Ron glumly said. Hermione picked up where she left off with the thesis on part-equines. "Not necessarily. They have been known to hide their species on many occasions. They could simply be ignoring us, or-" "Bloody 'ell, Hermione. Maybe their just dumb horses and Harry imagined them talking. Or it was someone else." Ron's gray raised very slightly off the ground and onto his back legs, rippling with muscle, in an uncharacteristic half-rear at the words 'just dumb horses'. Ron scrambled to stay aloft. Hermione laughed cheerily, "Guess their not 'dumb horses', than, Ron." Harry helped Ron right himself and couldn't help smirking. "Not that I ever suspected they were…" She trailed off, half to herself. Suddenly Ron's dapple gave another lurch, a full rear, throwing Ron off his back. Hermione and Harry jumped down and rushed to his aid. He sat up, wincing. "Ron! Ron, are you all right?" Hermione screamed. "Bloody 'ell, Herm, I'm fine." Ron told her, scowling. She helped him stand and held him up perhaps a little longer than she needed to. Harry, meanwhile, walked over to Ron's horse, trying to figure out what made him fright like that. He knew horses usually didn't shy out of nowhere. Harry frowned. There didn't seem to be anything wrong. Picking up the saddle and saddle blanket, which had fell to the ground with Ron, he realized something. The girth, the strap that held the saddle to horses' belly, had been deliberately cut. "Herm, Ron," he called, "come here. Look at this." He shook. Whoever cut that girth wanted Ron to fall off the tall gelding, which could have proven fatal, if Ron had fallen on his head. Hermione sauntered over, holding Ron by the arm. "What is it?" Harry pointed. Hermione gasped. "W-who would do that?" Harry's expression was weary. "I don't know, Herm. Someone who wanted Ron to get hurt." His tone was hollow. Hermione shook her head viciously, and pointed at the horses' back. "No that, _that_." Harry followed her arm and gaze. The grays' back had a small spot on it, hidden before by the saddle and blanket. Harry squinted, and recognized it with horror. Burning and hissing on the geldings' fragile back-"The Dark Mark…" Harry mumbled. 


	2. Stories

"What-?" Harry stammered, realizing what he was seeing. The three of them stared in horror, immobilized, at the tattoo. Ron was the first to properly react. 

"Fuckin' A" He whispered. They all came to the same conclusion-_Voldemort_.

"We have to tell someone. We have to go back." Hermione commanded her bossy demeanor back. 

"Don't be stupid," Ron mocked, "we can't go back. We're breaking about a hundred school rules being out here." Hermione opened her mouth to say something in reply, but Harry cut her off.

"Hermione's right. This is _Voldermort_, Ron." Harry's tone was gentle, condescending. 

"How do we know that? How do we know that, Harry?" Ron's voice was wild. He didn't even seem to have the sanity to yell at Harry for saying His name. He jabbed his pointer finger at the mark, and at the quarter horse, now twitching, eyes rolling. The dapple swiveled its ears in agitation, stamping its hooves nervously. 

"It's the Dark Mark, Ron. The mark of him." Hermione reached over and laid a hand on Ron's arm, patting it in an easing manner. At the same time, Harry walked over to the gray. He petted the large animal's neck slowly, calming it. It hardly had effect-the horse stopped twitching, save for the occasional spasm, and his eyes only darted back and forth dully. Besides that, he was unaffected. Ron and Hermione came to help him with the gelding, each of them having their on say on the horses' fear. 

"Now, where did you get this Mark, eh?" Harry rubbed the gray's withers, knowing he probably wouldn't get an answer. 

"Perichrysos doesn't like to talk." The sentence came from somewhere behind them, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione jumped. Turning, they saw the blood-bay looking at them intently. 

"What? Never seen a Magiquine before?" The sound came from somewhere deep in the horses' throat, rumbling out with a light twinkle. She gave a neigh, which they perceived as a laugh. She went on, oblivious to their gapes. "This one-" she motioned to Hermione "obviously knows her stuff! Not a bad rider, either." As an afterthought, she added, "_Not_ that we are meant to be ridden. Ah, let's say it was a courtesy. Anyway, you seem like a good lot. Friends?" 

They just stood there, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, even Hermione, whom was aware of the fact that they may speak. No one did anything for several moments. 

"Aren't you going to say anything? Humans are supposed to be smart." The mare mused. 

Hermione piped up, egged on by this statement. "I-yes. Friends." She stuck out her hand to shake on it, than withdrew, because the retired racer didn't have a hand to return the gesture with. Another throaty laugh.

"Good," she said, bobbing her elegant neck, "Now I think you deserve an explanation." 

Harry nodded. He _was_ wondering why these Magiquines were roaming about by themselves. 

"You may want to sit down-all of you." She said, looking pointedly at the other two horses. They obeyed, getting comfortable on the pine needle-strewn forest floor. As Hermione, Ron, and Harry assumed cross-legged positions, Perichrysos, the mare and the colt/stallion knelt onto the dry ground. "First, introductions. We all know _you_-" she cocked her head to Harry, seated next to Ron, who was suspiciously close to Hermione, "Harry Potter, of course. And your companions-what are your names?" 

"Ronald Weasley. Ron." Ron told them all. Harry and Hermione were aware of this, of course, and it was Hermione to finish up for him.

"Hermione Granger. You can call me Herm." She smiled invitingly at the Magiquines.

"Herm. Sounds like Hermes." The mare noted. "Well, I guess it's our turn. This will take some time, I believe. I am called Bavierdage. Comes from the French word for 'talk'. I was well-named." She shifted, and turned to the Arab. "Your highness." 

"Highness?" Ron blurted out. 

Bavierdage twisted to eye Ron. "Yes. You need to know our story." Ron was silenced.

"I," Said the black, "am Lunadusk." Though his words were powerful his voice held a hint of shame. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. 

"_Prince_ Lunadusk." Bavierdage corrected. The prince sulked. 

"Whatever." Lunadusk obviously hadn't come to terms with his title.

Bavierdage sighed. "You may refer to me as Bav. Much easier. Oh, and Perichrysos prefers Per. His Majesty is-His Majesty." 

"I'm Lunadusk!" The stallion yelped. "None of this royal stuff. I left to get away from that." Hermione, Ron, and Harry shot Lunadusk puzzled glances.

"Not yet! We must tell them the whole thing. Your Highness." Bav insisted. His Highness sent her daggers. "In any event," she picked up where she had left off, "it is time for a tale." 

Harry leaned back, placing his hands in the foliage. He could swear he saw Ron move closer-if possible-to Hermione. Was it his imagination, or did Ron clasp his hand tightly around hers? No, it couldn't be. Shaking his head, he focused again upon the three horses. If you could, by any means, call them that. Per had his legs tucked neatly under him, his belly scraping grass. Leaves fluttered about, creating an odd patchwork of colors about them. Lunadusk-the Prince-lowered his head to the earth in a defeated way. Bav, on the contrary, couldn't contain her excitement. Using the English tongue seemed to bring great pleasure to her. 

"I was born some hundred years ago. Magiquines age slowly," she told them, seeing the humans faces, "I lived the life of any other filly. I was careless. And I loved to run. Still do. I lived to run. To gallop. To feel the wind whipping at my mane, watering my eyes, rustling my coat. To watch the scenery blur beside me and even the speediest creatures become slow in comparison to me. Nothing could come close to the high I felt doing that. One day, on one of my romps, I was unlucky. A pair of men saw me running-I had unworldly speed, my Magiquine ability-and they stormed after me in a truck. Let me tell you, I ran like the Devil himself. I wasn't a match for their automobile, however, and they eventually caught me, exhausted. Cold sweat running off my back. They herded me like a cow into the back of their truck. I fought-oh yes. They got me in the end. I was taken to a riding stable, trained to race and use a saddle. You see the light one on my back-a jockeys'. I raced, and I daresay I liked it. I won some, too. But I knew my time was running short. I had to get out, before they realized that I wasn't aging or that I was too fast to be normal. In truth, I had to slow down considerably in order to make them believe I was a true horse. At one point I was tested for steroids, because of my skill. It came out negative, and they weren't convinced. So I had to slow down even more. It was becoming tricky. I would lose races on purpose to draw away the suspicion. Still, I knew I had to leave. I made it quick. One night, I ran away. Without a trace. They may still be searching for me. You may have heard-they named me 'Wind Racer' because they said I tried to race the wind. I guess they were right, in a way. I was always competing with it. I stole away into a forest. I remember it to this day. So cold, and dark. I walked, for some reason, it seemed wrong to run. A rat lay in my path. Thinking it dead, I kicked it away. And that is when it transformed. Became a man. Told me his name was Wormtail."


	3. Friends?

"Wormtail?" Harry choked. He sat upright instantaneously, causing small woodland animals to scurry away in fright. His heart racing, he looked pleadingly at Bav. Surely there was a mistake. She couldn't mean Pettigrew. The Pettigrew that-he didn't even want to think about it. Rehashing that hideous night….

"Yes," The mare confirmed. "He told me there were great things, if only I should follow him. Made no sense. I think he knew me for what I was, though. He just kept telling me to come with him, because if I did I would have power. Liked to talk about that a lot, power, he did. Seemed to think it was more important. 'There is no right or wrong,' it was like his mantra 'only power and those to weak to see it'. So after awhile I gave in. You must remember I had no home, any idea where my family was, so I so I had to stop protesting his wishes. And than-" A shudder ran through her silken flank. "And than he rode me." 

Perichrysos got up and quickly scampered in front of Bav. She lay with her head down, like Lunadusk before. He snorted indignation. "What do you mean, he rode you?" It was the first time they had heard him use English. His voice was deep, and weary, from some ordeal long ago. He prodded the mare with his hoof, and she eventually met his gaze with her sad eyes. 

"He just rode me. To his Master."

"Master? Are you sure?" Ron asked her, anxious. He leaned forward and Harry saw moonlight flicker on him and Harry was sure of it, he was holding hands with Hermione. He had more important things to think about, though, now. 

"To Voldemort." She nodded solemnly. 

"Don't use his name!" Ron immediately chided, forgetting whose presence he was in.

"And why not?" The retired racer said.

"It's not-right." He fumbled for words to express his anger. 

"And why not?" She repeated.

"Because-because-" Ron was stumped.

"Because you are so terrified of him that you quiver at the sound of his name. As a great man once said, 'Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.' And he was right."

"You know about that?" Harry said, astonished. Dumbledore had said that to him secretly, in a private conversation.

Nonplused, the blood-bay blinked. "Of course." 

"How-" Harry didn't get to finish his question, before Bav shushed him. 

"Hush. I have a yarn to get on with. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Voldermort," Ron flinched, "nasty man, he is. Man! Hurumph. Man indeed." She peevishly flicked a fly off her back before carrying on. "He enslaved me. Burned the Mark into me." She moved to reveal the skull and snake on her underbelly. "And than he said that if I didn't go to Hogwarts and somehow get the three of you for him he'd kill me."

"He didn't!" Cried out an outraged Hermione. 

"What else?" Harry ignored Hermione's outburst. "What else do you remember? Where did Petti-Wormtail take you? What did it look like?" 

"I was getting to that." She insisted. "He just leapt on my back and ordered me to run. And I couldn't stop. I was using my fastest gait, and I couldn't stop. It was like I was under a spell. Come to think of it, I probably was. I ran for days-I have very high endurance, as a Magiquine, but I was still tired beyond imagining when I could come to a halt. I would have died right there, had I not been frightened beyond my wits. We were in a dense, dark forest. Somewhere in Europe, I think, because I didn't cross any rivers or straits or anything. It was hard to see. So here I was with a rat man, in more ways than one, waiting to see the most feared wizard in history."

"What did you do?" Cut off Harry, who was rather caught up in her story.

"Well, Voldemort came." Ron winced. "And, just like I told you, he scored me-" she showed them the Mark again, "and imprisoned me. I had no choice. None! I had to obey him. I was released and I came here."

Harry scrambled away from his new friend. He stood up on shaky legs. "Are you saying-are you saying-that you are here to take me to Voldemort?" He was terrified. Ice-cold fear froze him. 

"No! No, please no." Her horsy eyes unusually bright, she got to her feet and came to Harry's side. She lay her arched neck on Harry's broad shoulder, in a sign of forgiveness. He gave in, patting her glossy neck and combing her shining mane with his fingers. "I won't go back to him. I can't. And I would never turn you in to him. Now, Perichrysos and His Highness have similar occurrences to tell you of."

She motioned to Per and he reluctantly spoke. "I was born Perichrysos IV, esteemed great-great-great-grandson of the most honorable Perichrysos. Perichrysos was the wingless cousin of Pegasus, and he passed his talent down through the generations. From this you may infer that mine is the flying ability." 

"Wow…" Breathed Hermione. 

Per resumed his narrative. "I was signed into the cavalry while I was approximately a teenager in human standards. I saw more death, more traumas, more crippling destruction than you can fathom. I wasn't even the heavy breed of horse expected for combat. I would just have to make do. I fared fairly well in battle-I have the good health of Magiquine, which coincides with my ability, quite like Bavierdage and her endurance. I, like Bav again, had to leave. I lived the life of a scavenger, when I was captured by the Dark Lord himself."

"That's it?" Harry said without thinking. 

"I told you Per doesn't like to talk. Not in your language, anyway." The mare reminded him. "If he will allow me, however, I shall elaborate." 

Perichrysos shook his head fervently, spraying his mane out like sea foam. 

"Per!" She pushed him with her words. 

"They don't have to know." He said, eyes suddenly so old it was hard to think he had ever been young. She backed off. 

"I didn't think-" She began to apologize. 

"That is obvious." Per curtly said. Harry had the oddest feeling of dejä vouz. 

Lunadusk glumly spoke up. "I am inclined to show you what-who-I am now, I presume. Very well."

"Please tell us," Hermione pleaded, turning her mahogany eyes on him.

"Fine. I am a prince." He groused, looking surly. 

"Crisis," Harry heard Ron mutter. 

"I am next in line to be King of the Magiquine. I don't want to be. I want to have _fun_! I want to _live_ before I die. Ruling is just so stuffy. So I took off. They're searching for me now, though they haven't located me." There was a nearly indistinguishable note of pride in his voice. Ron was still looking spiteful, and Harry was sure he knew why. Lunadusk could have had anything he fancied as a prince, yet he chose to throw it away, and Ron being the poorest person Harry knew, he empathized with him on how hard it must be to listen to that. 

"One thing still bothers me," Hermione said, before Per could round on Lunadusk with another lecture about the throne, "Bav, with all due respect, you were so much-_meaner_ before you talked. To us, I mean." Hermione shifted, light from the fire catching her eyes and staying, illuminating her amber pupils briefly. Wind whistled in the south, and Harry vaguely noticed a bite of sharp cold. A squirrel nearby was tittering angrily to something, and a distant sparrow was voicing his melodic opinions to the world. 

"Ah, yes. Well, you must understand, I used to collaborate with true horses. Racehorses, at that. At the time I only knew them-and racehorses often go very bitter, what with being whipped and pushed all day. I taught myself how to act like them, so as to conceal myself even more. I kept that act up, should I meet any humans. You'll see it's not really my way." The strong mare explained, chewing on a mouthful of grass thoughtfully. The moon overhead drifted lazily behind thick hazes of cloud, and Harry heard Ron draw in a steady breath beside him. There wasn't any marring civilization around here-he liked that. 

"So is that it, than?" Harry broke the silence, dusting sand from the soil off his shirt with one hand, purposely not eyeing Hermione and Ron. Bav raised a horsy eyebrow at him.

"Yes, that's _it._" She tartly answered, and Hermione covered a smile with her hand. 

Something occurred to Harry. He met the racer's gaze once more. "If you were ordered to capture me-and Hermione and Ron-and you don't really want to-how come you came here in the first place?" The question nagged at him, partly because the reply could be horrendously terrible or just the opposite. 

The big horse hesitated. Lunadusk gave what seemed to be a frown, though it was hard to tell. Perichrysos did not interfere, merely turning his head to look at Bav. "I," she said slowly, with obvious regret in her tone, and not looking at her audience, "can't say."

__


End file.
